“What do you even know about family?” Kaeden said. “You never had one. And you probably never had friends, either. Just clones who had to do everything you said, because you were their superior officer.”
She stalked off before Ahsoka could think of a reply. Miara pointedly gathered up all the pieces she was working on and moved them to another table, leaving Ahsoka alone. No one would look at her or talk to her, though aside from the girls, the farmers looked more exhausted and scared than angry. Ahsoka got up and walked out of the main cave. She crawled through the tunnel that led to one of the other chambers, the one with the entryway that looked toward town, and then sat there alone, staring at the lights.
“We take a piece, you take a piece,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure why it helped to think of a crokin board. She’d always been able to visualize tactics in plain terms before. She decided that the difference was her comrades. The clones knew battle. It was in their blood. The farmers knew crokin. It was the easiest way she could think of to explain it to them, and now it was a habit.
She was going to have to leave soon and confirm all Kaeden’s worst suspicions about her. If the Empire was interested in the moon before, knowing there was a Jedi on it would increase the Imperial presence tenfold. They’d be slow without their walkers, but they’d be out looking. And even the people who had stayed in town wouldn’t be safe, especially once the officers realized that the farmers had used their field crews to organize the uprising.
Ahsoka closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She meant to meditate, but instead of the serenity she usually found, the first thing she saw was the solemn face of four-year-old Hedala Fardi. That was almost worse than the blank space where Anakin used to be. At least her former master could take care of himself. The little Fardi girl deserved much better than being forgotten.
Blinking to regain her focus, Ahsoka made a decision. She couldn’t go back for Hedala, not now, but she could stay for Kaeden and Miara and the others for as long as possible. Her ship was still safely hidden, and now that her secret was blown anyway, she didn’t have to be subtle in any sudden escape attempts. She would stay on Raada and continue to help the farmers resist, assuming they’d let her, of course. After that night, there was a fairly decent chance they’d run her out of town themselves. She would at least stay long enough to apologize and to see if there was anything she could do for Neera.
“Ahsoka!” The cry came from behind her. It was Miara, her voice thin with worry and tears and no small amount of resentment for having to talk to Ahsoka in the first place.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Kaeden,” Miara gasped, winded from crawling through the tunnel. She must have done it in a hurry. “She stalked off after yelling at you, and I thought she’d gone back to the medical area to sit with Neera, but she didn’t. The door guard said he let her out, and she hasn’t come back.”
Ahsoka whipped around, staring out at the grassy hills between the caves and town. It was too dark to see anything, and there were too many people concentrated close together for Ahsoka to get an accurate read through the Force.
“If she goes to town, will they catch her?” Miara asked.
“She wasn’t wearing a mask, and you can see her injury as soon as you look at her face,” Ahsoka said. “They know what she looks like. They’ll catch her for sure.”
She didn’t add that the Imperials would torture Kaeden, too. They would assume she knew where the rest of the insurgents were hiding; they would assume she knew where Ahsoka was, and they would really, really want to catch Ahsoka.
“What are we going to do?” Miara asked.
“You are going to stay here with Neera,” Ahsoka said. “She is going to need a friend very badly when she wakes up, and you’re the only one she’s got right now.”
Miara swallowed hard, but nodded.
“You’re going to go?” she asked. “Even though Kaeden was so angry at you?”
“Yeah,” Ahsoka said. “I’m going to go.”
She didn’t look but assumed that Miara followed her through the tunnel to the main cave. She stopped only long enough to pick up the cache of tech pieces from where they were hidden, in case she wasn’t able to return for them, and to reclaim the Imperial blaster she’d stolen during the battle. No one tried to stop her, and she disappeared into the dark.
Kaeden realized her mistake almost as soon as she stepped back into town. Of course there would be more patrols, given that night’s two-pronged attack. Of course they would be actually searching now, not just showing off their presence and letting fear do the rest. Of course they would know what she looked like. At least she had stolen Miara’s hood to cover the wound on her forehead. It throbbed, but the bleeding had stopped, and the medic-trained insurgent who’d sewn her up said she probably didn’t have a concussion. Anyway, it was too late to turn back now.
She didn’t go home. She went to Vartan’s, but he wasn’t there. He must have stayed with Selda, waiting for news. She didn’t want to try to make it to them until it was daylight. At least once curfew was over it would be easier to move around. She had just finished disarming the lock on Vartan’s door when eight stormtroopers rounded the corner at a trot. They were clearly on their way to Vartan’s house, and they were just as clearly surprised to find her instead of him, but they were not about to let the opportunity pass them by.
“Take her,” said the one with the pauldron.
Kaeden thought about fighting, but eight to one was not good odds. She put up a bit of resistance, but not enough that they did more than knock the wind out of her.
“Careful with this one,” said the troop leader. “They’ll have a few questions for her back at base.”
The way he said it made Kaeden’s blood run cold. Ahsoka, she thought, wondering if Jedi really could read minds, Ahsoka, I’m sorry. Then the commander hit her again and everything went black.
Chapter 15
AHSOKA WATCHED. Ahsoka waited. Ahsoka was not afraid.
Kaeden had heard stories all her life of the cruel things men did for power. Orphaned on a remote world, and with next to nothing to her name, she’d seen more than a few of those stories play out in real life. She knew of spouses who hit. She’d seen bruises on her playmates’ eyes. One time, one of the overseers had tried to set up a food-rationing sideline, controlling everything his laborers had access to. It had fallen apart quickly—Vartan had been the one to break the overseer’s fingers—but Kaeden remembered those few days of watching her every move, and Miara’s, too, to keep out of the line of fire.
After she was captured and thrown in a cell, they left her alone for what felt like hours. She knew it couldn’t have been more than four, because there was a window in her cell and it was still dark outside. But it was more than long enough for her to relive every terrible story she’d ever heard and for her imagination to work her mind into a frenzy. She didn’t bother hiding her tears. She knew the Imperials would see them—and more—eventually.
The first interrogator didn’t ask her any questions. She pressed a machine to Kaeden’s chest, and when it was activated, all Kaeden could do was scream from the pain. She would have said anything, given up anyone, to make the pain stop, but the woman didn’t ask, and she never let up long enough for Kaeden to talk. When she finally removed the apparatus, Kaeden fell sideways onto the floor, her throat too raw from screaming to say anything at all.